Photo by Randy Dodson.

Editor’s note: This piece comes to us from reader Vance Mehlenbacher in Camrose, Alberta, Canada, and for obvious reasons we couldn’t pass it up. From all of us at Hemmings, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and thanks for reading!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and in the garage

There sat in the corner, a classic old Dodge

My sixty nine Charger, near ready to go

To all of next season’s burnouts and shows

Its perfect black body, with a white R/T stripe

Red leather interior, the seats are just right

A pistol grip shifter coming up through the floor

Now hooked to a six speed, not five, and not four.

It sits with the hood up, not quite running yet

The problem elusive, but simple I bet

The four-two-six HEMI of legend and lore

“Why won’t you run? I can’t take it no more.”

Now freshly rebuilt, this elephant mill

Just thinking about it gives me a chill

All of that horsepower, all of that torque

I can’t make it run. I feel like a dork.

I’m about to turn in, and go off to bed

Thinking a good sleep should help clear my head

When ever so slightly, I hear someone’s laughter

And jingle bells ringing, and hooves pitter-patter

“Is this for real?” I thought to myself

Could it be? The jolly old elf?

I opened the side door and had a look out

The sleigh that I saw removed any doubt

Across the street, he was making the rounds

Rooftop to rooftop, in leaps and bounds

Then he was gone, but the sleigh still remained

For what happened next, I’ll have to explain

As I turned around, what do you know

Santa Claus himself, the star of the show

Was standing there, grinning, right there by the car

His pearly whites glistening, reflecting like stars

I stammered “S-Santa?!” And he started to snicker

I took a deep breath to calm down my ticker

He was checking it over, no angle undone

And then he said nicely, “Can I hear it run?”

I hated to say it, had no other choice

This problem I had with my Charger’s voice

“I wish that we could, but I’m afraid not tonight.

It’ll turn over, but it simply won’t light.I know it’s ignition, of this I’m sure.

But I’m out of ideas. Do you have a cure?”

He pondered a moment, then scratched his chin.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you jump in?”

I climbed in the car as he fiddled around

And he said “Aha! You have a bad ground.

This wire on the coil should be attached here.”

And over he moved it, without any fear.

“Hit it!” he said, his grin growing wide

I pushed in the clutch and let out a sigh

I wiggled the shifter and hit the ol’ key…

And it fired at once. I howled with glee!

The exhaust is so loud it rattles the walls

Santa yelled over it, “I bet this thing hauls!”

I killed it and jumped out, unable to speak

Santa had fixed it with one little tweak!

“You know about cars?” I finally asked.

“Oh, yes!” he replied. “My veins run with gas.

I work but one night, so with my spare time

I tinker and wrench, it sharpens the mind.

I have a collection that rivals the best

It’s my preferred hobby when I am at rest.”

I shook his hand thank you, we nodded goodbye

And with that he vanished in the blink of an eye.

As I went in to head off to bed,

I thought about everything Santa had said

Turns out he’s a car guy! And now that you know,

Perhaps you’ll see him – at your next show!